


Silence isn't always golden

by littlemisscurious



Category: Actor RPF, British RPF, Luca Pasqualino, Luke Pasqualino - Fandom
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, First Person Narrator, The Musketeers - Freeform, morning coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7081618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in the Czech Republic with him while he shoots The Musketeers, Luke's girlfriend has her own way of coping. His response to her worries was not what she had expected, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence isn't always golden

_ _

 

_I like it when it rains hard. It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty._

Slowly, my fingertips glide over the written words while the rain keeps pelting down onto the cobblestones below our window. It’s true, I love the sound of rain. It has kept me company often in the last few weeks and months and I don’t mean to be accusing. I’m glad it was there and kept me from worrying too much. And I understand why he could not be here all the time.

In the corner of my eye I can see him sleeping still. He was out late again, shooting yet another gruelling fight scene that left him with more bruises on his arms, his torso, his face. He always laughs about it, trying to soften the worry in my eyes because he knows how it affects me. And how could it not?

 

“Come back to bed,” he says quietly after a few more moments that I have spent listening to the sound of the rain as I watched the drops roll down the window. Smiling faintly, I place the notebook onto the small table and stand up. I’d made coffee earlier and I pour us both a cup, my second one this morning already. His I leave black, in mine I add a splash of milk.

“Thank you.” His smile is loving and genuine as he takes our cups and waits for me to crawl under the duvet again. Like an old married couple do we sit side by side, sipping our coffee, listening to the rain, thinking our own thoughts that might, in fact, not be too different from each other.

 

It’s he who speaks again eventually as he carefully intertwines his hand with mine. “I know you worry about me. I know you’re lonely while I’m gone. I’m not happy about either of these things,” he says, quietly, his warm, brown eyes now resting on my face. I dare not to look at him for fear that I might see in his eyes what I know would break my heart and soul.

Instead he says, “I love you. I probably don’t say it often enough but I do. I love your gentle, caring nature. I love how you crinkle your nose when you read a book and don’t like the way the story evolves. I love the way you hug me when I come home, how your arms wrap around my middle and you bury your face in the crook of my neck.” He hesitates for a moment and I can feel tears – happy tears, mind you – well up in my eyes already. Still, my eyes are fixed on my coffee cup.

“I love your silence as opposed to my noise. I love how you keep me grounded without tying me down. I love the way you smile in your sleep and how you look at me when you think I can’t see it. I love you. All of you.”

 

His thumb glides slowly over the back of my hand as a teardrop of mine lands on my collarbone and slowly rolls down my skin before it drowns in the fabric of my top. He knows I’m not as good with words as he is. We’re opposites in so many ways and yet we fit exactly where it matters. Gently, I squeeze his hand before I look up at last, directly into his perfect, gorgeous eyes.

“I love you, too. So much it scares me sometimes,” I confess, quietly and he nods.

“I know what you mean. But maybe it doesn’t need to scare us any longer,” he mumbles.

Confused, I keep looking at him, not quite sure I follow his train of thought. Again, he hesitates for a moment and lowers his gaze before meeting mine once more.

“This is not the romantic moment I had imagined it to be one day but…will you marry me?”

At first I’m sure I’ve heard him wrong. Frowning, I shake my head a little and stutter, “Excuse me?”

His smile falters a little and he himself begins to stutter now, a bit of insecurity shining through after this initial reaction of mine, “I, um…I was wondering if you would consider marrying me. I know it’s a big step but I feel like we -”

I’m not sure how he wanted to continue that sentence because I didn’t let him finish it. My lips are pressed on his before he can end this thought and while I can feel the hot coffee seep through my blanket onto my leg, I keep kissing him. “Of course I will,” I whisper once the initial shock and surprise has reminded me that we needed to breathe and I could feel his smile against my lips when he’s heard my reply.

Forgotten was the empty silence of long and boring days. Forgotten were the worries about losing him. What matters are he and I together, hopefully forever.


End file.
